


Lilacs and Snow

by musicmillennia



Series: Dragon Riders 'verse [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Aramis' father is a jerk, Bonding Story, Cuddling, F/M, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Savoy, Soul Bond, Younger Aramis, but his son's not too bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3908962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/musicmillennia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Aramis and Adèle's Bond starts with a small town, has a traumatic middle, but turns out okay in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lilacs and Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daisy_Chain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_Chain/gifts).



> Daisy_Chain wanted Aramis/Adele's beginning, so here it is :) I hope you enjoy this, dear! And to the rest of you out there as well, happy reading!

If you're a dragon and you want to avoid Unbound Mountain without a Rider, you need something to tether you. It is a rare thing indeed to find another dragon who will provide such a Bond; they are creatures who fight together, but they do not share souls.

Adèle, in a way, gets lucky with Richelieu. The Cardinal is a greedy dragon who adores having others at his feet, especially when such a beautiful ( _powerful_ ) beast asks so nicely.

Then a group of recruited Musketeers are sent on a training exercise and a local guardsman's son throws a knife in everything.

(&)

To this day no one believes that Aramis became a Musketeer by accident; regardless, that is exactly what happened.

His family had chosen to live in a border village between France and Savoy, so many people came and went through the simple streets. Musketeers, however, were a rare sighting indeed.

They were merely recruits, so only their commander, a man by the name of Marsac, had a dragon. Aramis, being an eager study even at nineteen, whispered to his sisters that Marsac's Gregoire was an Ice Elemental and fifteen years of age. He doesn't remember much else of that day besides his first up-close dragon sighting; whenever he tries to recall other details, Gregoire's white and powder blue scales blind him.

Aramis had had dreams of becoming a soldier like his father, despite his parents' expectations for the clergy. If he'd talked to these Musketeers, surely he could put what his father called his "wild fantasies" to rest? His mother would never have to know.

Cecilia, his eldest sister, rolled her eyes when he made the request for her discretion that evening. The Musketeers were having one night in the village before moving to the forest, Gregoire settling in the one stable available for his kind. Marsac would undoubtedly be with him,  _please_  dear sister, just one interview with the gentleman!

"Fine," she said at last, "but this makes us even for the cow incident!"

Aramis made sure to kiss her cheek before hurrying out into the night. (The chill of that winter he remembers--will always remember--very well.)

(&)

Marsac was indeed with Gregoire. He had plenty of friends among his other nineteen comrades, but he would be spending plenty of time with them during this exercise. Aramis found him petting Gregoire's neck as his dragon devoured the remains of an ox.

"He is not in the mood for any more visitors," the Musketeer said upon seeing Aramis.

Aramis gave his most charming smile. "While your dragon is certainly magnificent, I actually came to see you."

Marsac seemed surprised. "Me?"

"Well, you  _are_ a Musketeer, yes?"

"Of course."

"Then I wish to speak with you. My Dragonspeak is atrocious anyway."

Marsac smiled, "So is mine."

"I thought all Musketeers had to master the language?"

"Well, there is _my_ Dragonspeak, and there is Gregoire's. We fooled my instructor."

Aramis laughed. And so it began: they pulled up two chairs outside Gregoire's stall and spoke for quite a while on trivial things like this. Aramis had the opportunity to find out what he wanted about life in a well-known and well-disciplined soldiers' garrison.

Unfortunately for his parents, Marsac's recounting sounded like the perfect cure to the stifling idleness of the country: set routines, always something to do, something new to learn or experience, and definitely plenty of adventure.

Aramis had no intentions of becoming a Rider, though; none of his family had a history of being capable of forming a Bond with a dragon or any other creature. No, he would join a faction like the Red Guards or something like them (hush, he was nineteen; he did not know any better). He related his predicament with his parents to Marsac, who hummed in sympathy.

"The soldier's life is not something a mother would want for her son," the commander said, "but what is your father's quarrel? You said he was a soldier himself."

Aramis shrugged a shoulder, "Does a father need a reason to disagree with his son? All he has told me is he would rather have a son committed to God than to the sword."

"I am sorry he will be disappointed."

Aramis scoffed. "You act as if I will become a soldier anyway."

"Is that not what you plan to do? You seem like the type of man who follows what he loves."

"I love God."

"Yet you have been eyeing my pistol this whole evening."

Aramis flushed with embarrassment; it was true he had been glancing at Marsac's pistol. His father had taught him how to defend himself with a sword, certainly, but what he had always looked forward to as a child was target practice. According to bystanders, he was a prodigious shot.

Marsac smiled again, as if they were two little boys sharing secrets. "We set out a dawn tomorrow, but as this  _is_ a training exercise, perhaps a spectator would not be remiss from time to time."

The love of a dear friend sprouted in Aramis' chest. "Thank you."

(&)

Aramis' accidental recruitment happened not when he sneaked off to the forest to watch and occasionally practice with the Musketeers. His visits only sprouted the belief later on that he was already a recruit when the exercise began.

No, actually it had not happened in Savoy at all. It was after Aramis decided to spend the night with his new friends, after he woke to their blood, after Gregoire roared his final roar with a magic sword embedded in his chest, and after Marsac stumbled away.

Aramis staggered out of the forest, stained and pale, hands shaking. He'd managed to send his entire village into a panic, but a messenger had been dispatched to Paris to relate to the Captain what had occurred as Aramis could tell it.

Lying shivering in his bed, safe at home once more, Aramis had never seen his father so disappointed.

"This is why," M. d'Herblay murmured. Then he left the room and did not visit his son's bedside for the rest of his physical recovery.

(&)

A large hunter green dragon with a shining gold and metallic silver underbelly landed on the edge of Aramis' village a week and a half later. His forehead showed the Honor Sigil, a rarity among his brethren. He bore no Rider, but once he shifted and strode through it was obvious why not: Captain Tréville's Rider was the King himself.

Tréville was accompanied by a few of his Musketeers and their companions. Aramis had recovered enough to walk about without wanting to vomit or collapse, and so he met them outside.

"Captain," he called. 

Tréville turned to him, not breaking stride. "Who are you?"

"I was there."

The dragon paused then, as did the others.

"You are not one of mine," Tréville said, eyes narrowing.

Aramis conceded this with a nod. "Commander...or, Marsac, he--kindly invited me to watch your Musketeers train. I have ambitions of becoming a soldier, you see, sir."

Flashes of Marsac, still horrifyingly fresh, assaulted his mind's eye. Blood, snow, screams, and a grieving man throwing his pauldron next to his dragon's corpse.

"--you hear me?"

Aramis started. "Sorry sir, I--he'd lost Gregoire and deserted."

Quite a few of the Musketeers gathered turned pale, but Tréville's face remained stern.

"I see," the Captain murmured. Then, in a normal volume, "The Cardinal has sent one of his own with us. You will tell her and one of my Musketeers what you can while we survey the scene." Aramis nodded. "Porthos, Samara."

The largest Musketeer of the group stepped out of formation, accompanied by a smaller but no less intimidating woman who wore a lace black dress. They looked as grim as Tréville.

"You will accompany..."

"Aramis, sir."

"Aramis with Adèle to wherever he feels comfortable."

"Yes, Captain," Porthos and Samara responded in perfect unison.

Aramis swallowed. Although the Cardinal and Tréville were known to be mated, the prospect of talking to an agent of Richelieu still caused him to give an internal wince. Yet if an Honor Sigil trusted this Adèle, then--

 _That_ was when it happened, with a woman's strangled gasp and Aramis' chest tearing itself anew.

She charged at him as soon as they locked eyes, snatching him into her arms. His pain became her pain as they embraced in front of God and everyone.

Aramis hiccuped, the sound muffled by her lilac-scented shoulder. She whispered to him in Spanish, filling his ears with little comforting nothings and the promises of a young lover. Her warmth spread from her to his body, flowing down his arms to his head and all the way to his toes.

Bonding with a dragon...tingled, physically at least. Adèle was quite literally weaving into his consciousness, creating an unbreakable link between them with her magic. She settled easily at the base of his skull, a welcoming heat that melted Savoy's snow.

Emotionally, Aramis had never felt more soothed or-or _loved_ in his life. It was, to put it mildly, overwhelming bliss. Until that moment, he had never believed himself truly incomplete, not even after Isabelle's disappearance or the death of his unborn child. But now,  _now_ he had achieved completion.

"Well."

The pair jumped, the shock of their new Bond distracting them from the world around them. They came back to it at Porthos' voice.

Porthos looked to his dragon; Samara, despite the sorrow still plaguing her eyes, was visibly trying not to laugh. He turned back to Aramis and Adèle.

"'Least you're not alone now."

Tréville sighed, sounding exasperated yet fond. "A silver lining then," he said. "Now get going."

(&)

Aramis did not have to speak anymore when the four of them arrived at his father's house. Cecilia and his other sister Inès would be gone with their mother to the marketplace for a little while longer, leaving M. d'Herblay to shut himself away in his study.

He would not begin to know how to react to his son crawling into a woman's lap and hiding his face in her stomach, dragon or no. Yet, Aramis found that for once he couldn't give a damn what his father thought. Adèle did not mind--in fact she wrapped an arm around his back and used her other hand to stroke his hair.

A sluice of an apology caressed their newborn link before Adèle gently prodded at the cold flashes of Savoy. Slowly, as the memories unfolded piece by piece, she related them to the best of her ability to Samara and Porthos, who listened with the utmost patience and sympathy. Aramis circled his arms around Adèle's waist as she approached the part of Gregoire's death and Marsac's desertion, but other than that made no other movement or noise.

He was glad for a whole other reason for Adèle then. Earlier he may have been ordered to recount the gruesome massacre on his own, but hearing Adèle speak of it made him realize that he would never have been able to do it so coherently to Marsac's former comrades.

Silence greeted Adèle when she finished. Porthos was the one to break it, squeezing Aramis' shoulder and murmuring a couple heartfelt condolences.

From his small bubble of warmth and lilacs, Aramis heard Samara ask quietly, "Why does your father remain where he is?"

Strong dragon noses. Vaguely Aramis wondered what M. d'Herblay smelled like. Books and metal, most likely.

Adèle swathed him with humor, showing him he made her smile. It was so pleasant that Aramis slackened in her grip.

 _Tell them he does not wish to speak with me_ , he thought to her, relishing in the sensation that she heard him. Adèle obliged, though her tone was stiff and her anger flared at M. d'Herblay.

"Why not?" Porthos growled, "A father shouldn't abandon 'is son like that." he sounded as if he spoke from experience. Aramis felt pain for him.

_He is disappointed in me for accompanying the Musketeers._

Samara made a noise of disgust before Adèle even said 'in'. "And what of your mother?"

_She and my sisters are at the market._

"They left you to face your grief alone?"

Aramis frowned into Adèle's lovely blue gown.  _It is not their fault. I told them I wanted to be alone._

Porthos huffed in amusement. "You and Adèle're a matchin' set, aren't yah?"

Aramis' lips twitched back up; Adèle was a Mercy Sigil.  _Indeed we are._

(&)

After finding his dragon, Aramis was content to be forced to travel to Paris with her and the other Musketeers. The Cardinal was a bit miffed at one of his favorite pets being taken from him, the effect only worsened when Tréville more or less adopted the young man into his fold.

"The rest, as they say, is history," Aramis says.

D'Artagnan stares at him. "So you really weren't recruited until after Savoy?"

"Really, D'Artagnan? My tragic backstory with a hopeful ending has been laid before you, yet that is the question on which you choose to focus?"

Constance grins, "It was lovely of you to tell us, Aramis. Thank you."

Aramis makes a contented noise. He points to her while saying to D'Artagnan, "Why are you not more like your dragon?"

The youngest rolls his eyes, otherwise not responding. Constance laughs.

"So!" Aramis looks around the fire, "Who is next?"

**Author's Note:**

> This 'verse will be complete, since I hadn't planned on writing anything beyond Dragon Me Out--however, I suppose I could write other beginnings/post other little things I wrote for this 'verse if people really want it?? Let me know in the comments :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
